


Bustin' Makes Me Feel Good: Masculinity, Sexuality, and Gendered Imagery in Ghostbusters (1984)

by waynebruce



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mistaken Identity, Slow Burn, TA!Dirk, lots of discussion of movies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:47:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24561817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waynebruce/pseuds/waynebruce
Summary: Since you’re a grown man, you only spend, like, five minutes complaining. What are you going to do, not graduate over three credits? No way. But you’re kind of irritated, because you’ve had your classes picked since June, and you’re also kind of embarrassed, because you’ve never taken anything in the social science department before, so you’ll be taking a 100-level as a senior.Reading the course list over your shoulder, Dave points at the screen. “Dude, if you took this one, you’d have Dirk for a TA.”“That one?” The course title - Gender, Sexuality, and Media - doesn’t track with your idea of Dave’s brother at all. “Why?”“He’s doing a sociology Master's.”“No, I know that,” you say. “I just didn’t think sociology was, like-” You pause. “I didn’t know he was doing gender and sexuality stuff.”“Oh.” Dave shrugs. “Yeah, that’s his specialization.”
Relationships: John Egbert/Dirk Strider
Comments: 14
Kudos: 152





	Bustin' Makes Me Feel Good: Masculinity, Sexuality, and Gendered Imagery in Ghostbusters (1984)

TO: johnegbert@uskaia.edu  
FROM: no-reply@uskaia.edu  
SUBJECT: **URGENT** Information Regarding your Fall 2020 Schedule  


John Egbert  
ID: 413612  
You are receiving this email because a scheduling error has been flagged on your account and you are no longer on track for SPRING 2020 graduation. According to our database, you are missing: 3 SOCIAL SCIENCE CREDITS. Attached below is a PDF of all classes scheduled for the FALL 2020 semester that will fulfill your missing requirement.   


Please contact your advisor as soon as possible to make the appropriate scheduling changes.

\---

“Fuck,” you say emphatically. “Shit. Shit. Fuck.”  
Dave glances up from his phone. “You good?”  
“No,” you say. “Look at this.”  


Since you’re a grown man, you only spend, like, five minutes complaining about it. What are you going to do, not graduate over three credits? No way. But you’re kind of irritated, because you’ve had your classes picked since June, and you’re also kind of embarrassed, because you’ve never taken anything in the social science department before, so you’ll be taking a 100-level as a senior. 

Reading the course list over your shoulder, Dave points at the screen. “Dude, if you took this one, you’d have Dirk for a TA.”  
“That one?” The course title - Gender, Sexuality, and Media - doesn’t track with your idea of Dave’s brother at all. “Why?”  
“He’s doing a sociology Master's.”  
“No, I know that,” you say. “I just didn’t think sociology was, like-” You pause. “I didn’t know he was doing gender and sexuality stuff.”  
“Oh.” Dave shrugs. “Yeah, that’s his specialization.”

You go back to looking at the list. There’s other stuff on there that sounds okay - _An Introduction to Ancient Egypt_ in the anthropology department, and an applied macroeconomics course that’s basically just math - but you go back and click on Dirk’s stupid class, for whatever reason. Dave’s right; you knew he went to school here, you knew he was a sociology grad student, objectively you knew he’d be a TA. It’s just hard to think of him as a real person, given that your only exposure to him is 1. through the secondhand lens of Dave’s hero-worship and 2. from seeing his firmly closed bedroom door in their apartment when you and Dave were teenagers. You’ve met him in person maybe once, he’s definitely never spoken to you, and he’s always made you nervous.

“I thought he’d be studying, like, engineering or robotics or something,” you say. Clicking around on the course page, it turns out the focus is mostly film and TV, with a final paper analyzing a movie or show of your choice. The idea of getting to watch a movie for homework is persuasive enough on its own, but on top of that, RateMyProfessors.com says it’s light, work-wise - especially compared to the shitload of projects you know your asshole 500-level professors are going to assign all at once, because they hate you.   
“I’ll help you blackmail him for extra credit points,” Dave says.   


\---

When you show up to the first lecture it does, unfortunately, seem to skew young. You sit in the middle of the room and take out your phone, hoping you’ll end up being overlooked. It’s not that you don’t want to talk to people, you just know what freshmen are like and would prefer to avoid dealing with them if you can. You look around for Dirk but he’s not standing at the front of the lecture hall; to be fair, though, you haven’t seen him in person in years, so you could just be missing him. The professor is a thirty-something year old woman with long black hair, tattoos looping up and down her arms, and a hoop through the middle of her bottom lip.   
It’s fine. You’re vaguely uncomfortable, but you can deal with it. It’s not like you’re going to get up and leave. 

“If we can get started.” The professor’s voice is low for a woman; kind of soothing, you think. The room quiets down immediately. “Good morning. Welcome to Gender, Sexuality, and Media. My name is Professor Maryam.” She has a presentation projected on the wall behind her with neat slides in white and green. “Today’s lecture will be fairly short - although I know you’re all thrilled to get started, I figured our first meeting should be one of a more introductory nature.” She smiles warmly, and you find yourself smiling back. “Myself and your TA will tell you a bit about ourselves, and then we’ll go over our expectations for the course and for you. You can ask us any questions you may have, and then you’ll be free to go.”  
She clicks to the next slide. “Starting with relevant information about myself - this is my third year teaching this course. I have a bachelor’s degree in sociology and a doctorate in women’s studies. In the past I’ve taught a few other sociology courses, but Gender, Sexuality, and Media has proven to be both the most popular among students and my personal favorite, so it has been my main focus for the last few years.” She nods to the front row. “That’s all, I suppose. I cede the floor.”

Someone in the front gets up. You see the back of a blond head and your stomach does a weird twist. 

It’s just... he looks so much more _settled_ than you remember. If you hadn’t known it was him, you might not have recognized him at all. You’d kind of expected more stoicism, maybe a little bit of standoffishness - but he seems comfortable in front of a room of people, smiling wryly and standing beside Professor Maryam. He’s about a head and a half taller than her and is completely ignoring any semblance of professional dress code, wearing a black tank top and shorts. You can see the full sunburned slope of his shoulders.   
“I’m Dirk. I’m studying for my Master’s in sociology, and I’ll be your TA this semester.” His voice is deeper than Dave’s. Kind of scratchy. “Professor Maryam lectures on Tuesdays and I run discussion group on Thursdays. Ideally you’ll be coming to lecture and discussion having already watched the assigned videos, but at the very least you’re responsible for having something to contribute to the conversation on Thursday. We got some links for you, so all the videos are free.” That’s… very cool. Your textbooks routinely gouge several hundred dollars out of your spending money. “There’ll be a few smaller writing projects throughout the semester so you can get a good idea of what kind of analysis we want from you before you write your final.” He clicks around on his laptop, opening up an electronic copy of the syllabus with a second page of hyperlinks. “I’m going to pass around physical copies of the syllabus now, but I’ll also send this out after class. Our office hours are down at the bottom along with both mine and Professor Maryam’s emails. If any questions come up after you leave today, my office is on the third floor. I’ll be there until five.”

He’s succinct and competent as fuck. As somebody who’s suffered at the hands of a colorful array of useless TA’s, this is the only reason you’re slightly dazed. 

\---

SOC 122: Gender, Sexuality, and Media   
Tuesdays 1 PM—3 PM, Thursdays 12 PM—1:30PM  
209 Lawrence Hall   
Fall 2020   
Professor Porrim Maryam (pmaryam@uskaia.edu)   
TA—Dirk Strider (dirkstrider@uskaia.edu) 

Course Description: This is a sociology course with a writing designation that will examine the changing cultural and theoretical views of gender and sexuality as expressed through various forms of visual media (ie. film and television). Students will be asked to view, examine, discuss and write about films and appropriately apply basic theory from the field of gender, sexuality and women’s studies to film analysis. 

Learning Outcomes From This Class:   
\- Students should demonstrate an introductory understanding of the field of gender, sexuality, and women’s studies.  
\- Students should be able to analyze elements and themes of film (and other forms of visual media) as they relate to issues of gender and sexuality, and foster a critical understanding of the relationship between media, gender, and sexuality.  
\- Students should be able to write clearly and coherently about the films in terms of their history, theory, and/or sociocultural context.

Required Viewing (please watch BEFORE DISCUSSION):   
09/08: The Celluloid Closet (1995), dir. Rob Epstein, Jeffrey Friedman  
09/15: Set It Off (1996), dir. F. Gary Gray  
09/22: Die Hard (1988), dir. John McTiernan   
09/29: Thelma and Louise (1991), dir. Ridley Scott  
10/06: The Children’s Hour (1961), dir. William Wyler   
**10/13: No Lecture - Fall Break**  
10/20: Paris Is Burning (1991), dir. Jennie Livingston  
**10/27: MIDTERM DUE**  
11/03: Roma (2018), dir. Alfonso Cuarón  
11/10: Moonlight (2016), dir. Barry Jenkins  
11/17: The Watermelon Woman (1996), dir. Cheryl Dunye  
12/01: Alien (1979), dir. Ridley Scott  
**12/08: LAST LECTURE OF TERM - FINAL PROJECTS DUE**  


Grading:  
Four (4) 500 word reviews on assigned films: 15% of final grade  
Attendance and participation in discussion group: 25% of final grade  
Midterm paper: 25% of final grade  
Final project: 35% of final grade

Office Hours:   
Professor Maryam — M, W, F, 1PM—4PM  
Office 326, Lawrence Hall  
TA: Dirk Strider — M, T, W, 2:30PM—5PM  
Office 312C, Lawrence Hall  


\---

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 13:45 --

TG: is she hot  
TG: dirk says she has tattoos and piercings and stuff  
EB: ok, first of all, she’s like thirty five, so gross  
EB: second of all i think that’s kind of disrespectful considering she’s my professor.  
TG: not disrespectful just a statement of fact  
TG: water is wet earth is round tattoos and piercings are hot etc  
TG: but definitely dont let me be the one to stop you from slamming that nice cold glass of delicious respecting women juice  
EB: you’re a jerk.   
EB: i mean, i guess she’s pretty?  
EB: is that what you wanted to hear you freak? is that doing it for you?  
TG: yes thank you  
TG: can you buy milk while youre out   
EB: yeah. do you want skim or 2%  
TG: why would u even ask me that  
TG: 2%. im not a fucking animal   
TG: watery ass milk  
TG: fucking disgusting  


\-- turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 13:57 --

\---

You’re more nervous for the discussion group than you are for the lecture. This is mostly because discussion groups are not your thing at all; being graded on participation makes you nervous, and you know literally jack shit about sociology. But it’s also partly because you start to feel kind of apprehensive when you think about talking to Dirk one on one. You show up, obviously - you’re the schmuck who’s paying to take the class - but you’re a fashionable five minutes late, because you don’t want to run the risk of being forced to small talk with anybody. 

Close up, you realize, he doesn’t really look like Dave at all. They both have the same startlingly pale eyelashes and hair, but he must have missed out on the actual albinism since his eyes are a warm brown and freckles dot his nose and cheeks. He sets a piece of paper down in front of you and his elbow kind of brushes your shoulder when he pulls away. If he recognizes you, he doesn’t show it.

“So, since we don’t actually have a film to discuss today, this is going to be over a lot quicker than normal,” he starts. “We’re going to go through some administrative shit, I’m going to run through that piece of paper I just gave you, and then you’ll all be free to go.”   
The class is seated in a circle around a large table. He sits down across from you and opens his laptop, which starts projecting on the SmartBoard behind his head. “Okay,” he says. “To start, just a reminder on how to navigate the links for your assigned films - if you go to the course page and click on this left menu button here, you’ll open a dropdown list. The third item should say Videos. If you click on that, it’ll redirect you to this webpage where they’re all linked in chronological order from top to bottom.” He scrolls up and down so everyone can see. “They should all link directly to an mp4 player in your browser - it won’t ask you to download anything. In the spirit of full disclosure, they are not entirely legal, so sometimes the links break. Just send me an email if that happens. I’ll get a new one up as soon as I can.” He looks through a stack of papers on the table next to his computer. “In terms of turning stuff in, we have a place for you to do that online - if you go to the syllabus page and click on the heading of what you’re trying to turn in, you’ll be able to upload a file and send it to myself and Professor Maryam directly. We also accept physical copies, if that’s more your thing. Professor Maryam has a mailbox outside of her office where you can leave anything that needs to get to her.”  
He’s quiet for a moment, seemingly reading something. “Okay,” he says. “Onto that piece of paper I just handed out - it’s a prompt for your first writing project of the semester. Don’t sweat this one too much,” he says as the group groans softly. “It's weighted way lower than the other prompts we’ll be giving you later on. It’s essentially just a metric for us to get an idea of everyone’s comfort level with academic writing and any prior knowledge of theory we might be talking about in class.”  
You try to keep yourself from physically wincing. Your comfort level with academic writing is fine, but your knowledge of theory is literally zero. Dirk’s still talking to the class but you aren’t really listening - as you read the prompt over, you start to feel like you’ve maybe jumped into the deep end of a pool without realizing. 

After he dismisses the group, you swallow your discomfort and stay behind to talk to him. 

“Social science credit?”   
You startle at the sound of his voice; you didn’t realize he’d noticed you were still there. “Sorry?”  
“You don’t look like a freshman,” he says. He slides his laptop into his bag and zips it shut.  
“Oh, no. I’m a senior,” you say. Then, after you think about it, “Jeez, is it that obvious?”

“Not in a bad way.” He’s smiling slightly. You’re not sure if it makes you feel better or worse that he definitely does not recognize you.  
“Um. I guess this is a kinda dumb question, but I just wanted to make sure - I’m not boned if I have, like, no background in this, right? I don’t know anything about film or sociology.”  
“You and your twenty five first semester freshman peers,” Dirk says. He picks up his bag and slings it over his shoulder. “I meant it when I said don’t sweat this one. Nobody knows anything right now. That’s kind of the point.”  
“Okay.” Mirroring him, you pick up your bag. “Um. I’m John.”  
He sticks out his hand, and you shake it. “Nice to meet you, John. I’m Dirk.”

\---

SOC 122: Gender, Sexuality, and Media  
Professor Porrim Maryam  
TA: Dirk Strider  
Writing Project 1

For your first assignment this semester, you will be asked to write a review of one of the six films included in the list below. This review can be positive or negative and can touch on whichever aspects of the film you wish to include. Please write a minimum of 500 words. We will collect your final drafts before the beginning of your discussion group on Thursday, October 1st (10/01), during which time you will trade final drafts with a partner and do a brief session of peer review. 

Disobedience (2017), dir. Sebastián Lelio  
The Handmaiden (2016), dir. Park Chan-wook  
But I’m a Cheerleader (1999), dir. Jamie Babbit  
Blue Is the Warmest Color (2013), dir. Abdellatif Kechiche  
Anchor and Hope (2017), dir. Carlos Marqués-Marcet  
Colette (2018), dir. Wash Westmoreland

\---

You decide to watch _Blue Is the Warmest Color_ , because you took French in high school and the title kind of makes you think of Jake. Dave floats in and out of the living room a few times before he ends up sandwiched next to you on the couch, jostling a bowl of popcorn in his lap and just generally being stupid and distracting.  
"She’s really going to town on that spaghetti,” he says.  
You snort out a startled laugh. He’s right, out of context it’s sort of funny; but the close-up mouth shots and eating sounds are mostly just making you uncomfortable. You kind of try to take notes, but Dave won’t stop touching your notebook with his greasy popcorn fingers and you’re having a hard time finishing the movie anyway.   
“I think it’s kind of fucked up,” you say, looking determinedly away from a remarkably graphic sex scene. “She’s supposed to be fifteen.”

The movie ends and you doink around on Wikipedia for a while, clicking through article citations and reading other people’s reviews. You aren’t really sure what you want to write; it’s kind of hard to get your thoughts together, especially considering Dave made you miss at least a quarter of the movie.   
You end up cobbling together something that you feel okay about. After three years of college you know your best bet is to just ask your TA what they’re looking for, so you send Dirk a copy of your first draft. 

Friday afternoon, you get an email. 

TO: johnegbert@uskaia.edu  
FROM: dirkstrider@uskaia.edu  
SUBJECT: Tuesday’s Assignment

Hi John,  
Are you available to come in for office hours next Monday (09/28)? I have some questions re: your first draft for next week’s assignment that I want to go over with you before the due date. 

Thanks -  
Dirk Strider

Which is kind of concerning. You shoot back a quick response - sure! No problem, see you then! \- and then spend all weekend worrying about what he could possibly have to say to you that he couldn't just have sent in an email. 

On Monday morning, you work for a while on a genetics project. Dave fucks off somewhere before you wake up, so you don’t even have him to distract you; twenty minutes before Dirk’s office hours start, you go to a coffee shop just so you can sit and be nervous somewhere that isn’t your own apartment. Objectively, you don’t need a coffee. You get one anyway. 

Dirk’s office hours start at 2:30. You knock on his door at 2:32. You poke your head around the door, and he’s sitting at his desk, which is pushed up against the wall to make space for two others - figures he’d be sharing an office, you guess, but at the moment it’s empty aside from the two of you.  
Dirk turns around and smiles. “Hi. Thanks for coming in.”  
“Of course,” you say. “Um. Is everything okay?”  
“Yeah, no worries. I just had a couple clarifying questions, if you don’t mind…” he gestures to the chair next to him.  
You sit.   
He opens your paper on his desktop. A few sections are highlighted in orange. “Okay. Before I say anything, I want to make it very clear that this is a good first draft. I can tell you did some additional reading and you’ve got a good handle on the language.”  
“Oh,” you say, startled. “Thanks.”  
“I also want to point out that I can tell you don’t give a shit about what you’re writing,” he says.   
You nearly choke on a sip of coffee.   
“I don’t want to seem like I’m attacking you,” he says. “I’m serious, this is not a bad paper. It’s just dry as hell.” He gestures with the cursor. “It’s basically regurgitation. Again, not necessarily bad - you cite well, you’re using the right information in the right way. But if I wanted a plot summary of _Blue Is the Warmest Color_ , I could just read the IMDB page.”

You’re kind of stunned. Dirk looks at you sideways, then is quiet for a moment, apparently looking through your introduction again.   
“I give a shit about what I’m writing,” you say.  
“What’s your argument?”  
“My... argument?” You wish you could melt into the floor. You wish you had never been born. You wish you had taken _An Introduction to Ancient Egypt_. “What do you mean?”  
“I can tell you’re a STEM major,” he says. “Anything related to hard fact is really well written. But your voice isn’t in your writing at all. You’re not drawing any conclusions.”  
You fight a sudden urge to bash your head against his desk. “I’m not really good at that kind of thing.”  
“That’s a cop out.” He scrolls down through the document. “Your writing is clear, and you’ve got strong analytical skills. You’re just applying them in a way that’s not helping you.”  
“What do you mean?”  
“You’re trying to give me a right answer,” he says. “It’s okay if you didn’t like the movie as long as you can explain why you didn’t like it. That’s what we’re grading you on.”

You leave with a print copy of your paper, marked up with comments that basically all boil down to _this needs to be completely rewritten_. He’d been nice about it, at least - sort of - but as much as you tell yourself you don’t give a shit what he thinks, you’re pretty embarrassed. 

“Jade,” you say, wedging your phone between your ear and your shoulder. “It’s not fair.”  
Her reply is long-distance crackly. “You’re being a baby.”  
“I’m not! You haven’t met Professor Maryam and Dirk, you don’t know.” You’re trying so hard not to sound like you’re whining. “I thought this was going to be easy, but he’s smart, and, like, funny in a kind of mean way, and-”  
“He?”  
You stop. “They. I meant they both are.”  
“Okay,” she says. “I think maybe you’re overreacting a little bit.”  
“I have to drop the class,” you say. “Oh, God, Jade, it was so fucking embarrassing. I have to leave this school, actually. Can I come live with you?”  
“No.” There’s rustling on the other end of the line. “John, that sounds like it sucked, but you have to get over it. I’m sure he wasn’t trying to be mean, he’s Dave’s brother! Plus he sees so many students I bet he’ll forget it even happened.”  
You take a deep breath. “Yeah. Yeah. You’re right.”  
“I know,” she says. “Dummy. Have you talked to Dave?”  
“Nooooo,” you say. “No way. If he talked to Dirk about it I would drop out for real, and not as a joke. Like, I would become a monk and live in the desert and eat sand and stuff until I died.”  
She laughs, and your heart squeezes. You sometimes forget how much you actually miss her, which is a lot. “As much as I love the melodrama, I’m running late to class,” she says. “I gotta go, but call me later, okay?”  
“Sure,” you say. “And thanks. For listening. I love you.”  
“I love you too, doofus,” she says. “See ya.”  
“Bye.” 

You spend the next few days neck deep in JSTOR articles on film analysis and theory. You decide Dirk’s right - you didn’t really like the movie at all - so you start from the beginning and rewrite the paper about that. You dig into the weird underage sex thing and the new-to-you concept of male gaze, and when you turn in a final draft he responds with an email that’s just a grinning smiley face and a thumbs-up emoji. 

It’s a little anticlimactic. You get a 90%. It doesn’t even end up being a big deal. 

\---

Professor Maryam’s first real lecture ends up being super interesting. It definitely has something to do with her presence as a teacher - calm and knowledgeable and sharply funny - but it also helps that the movie it’s on is unexpectedly touching. 

You watch _The Celluloid Closet_ on your laptop in bed. Where you’d expected it to be either depressing or dry, you find a remarkably kind rendering of the landscape of gay cinema in the 1900s. Parts of it are, admittedly, kind of hard to watch - Lily Tomlin gets to the section on _Cruising_ and you have to look away as somebody gets stabbed to death. But a lot of it makes you think about personal connections to characters and what it actually means to see yourself on screen, and you go to sleep thinking about Michael Ontkean and Harry Hamlin in _Making Love_ and masculinity and tenderness how stupidly long it’s been since anybody’s given you a fucking hug.

“I think the main takeaway from the documentary is the significance of allowing people the space to tell their own stories,” Professor Maryam says. Dirk is in the corner taking notes. “This is true across all minority communities. The truest account of a group experience, insofar as that exists, will come from someone who is a member of that group themselves. This point is made very succinctly within the first five minutes of the movie - _Hollywood, that great maker of myths, taught straight people what to think about gay people, and gay people what to think about themselves._ Whether that means explicit violence or just subtextual implication, the result is a deep taboo that has become essentially ingrained in the heart of American culture. And while this was not necessarily borne of film, film has historically been a very effective tool in furthering that hatred.”

She sits back on the top of her desk and faces the lecture hall. On anybody else it would look like a strange Sean McGuire emulation, but when she does it it looks very natural. She doesn’t seem like the kind of person you could make fun of. “There’s a point made in the documentary that I do specifically want to draw your attention to, however, and it comes up around the ten minute mark. Centering around the discussion of the ‘sissy’, or the cinematic trope of an almost sexless gay man, we get this quote from Harvey Fierstein: _Is it used in negative ways? Yes, but my view has always been visibility at any cost._ Let’s discuss that.”  
A girl in the front row raises her hand and says something about harmful imagery perpetuating real-life stereotypes that Professor Maryam gently nods along to. After she finishes, you raise your hand too. You’re not sure why.  
“Go ahead,” she says.   
You go ahead. “Um. I guess I kind of get what he means? Like, if you’re just looking for anything, then sometimes if you get something that’s almost what you want, you can kind of… make it into something that it’s not.” You shake your head. “That wasn’t super clear. I guess it just made me think of the quote about being starved for images of yourself. Like, even if they’re bad, just that they’re there at all is sometimes enough.”  
She nods through your comment as well. “Reading subtext or adding detail - the concept of making your own movie that gets brought up a few times.”  
“Yeah, exactly,” you say. You notice Dirk is looking at you. You also notice that your heart is beating very fast.   
“That is both a good point and a good segue into our next topic,” she says. “Gendered imagery as a storytelling tool. Who can give me an example of that from the documentary?”

You leave class with your head spinning. Historically, social sciences are not your thing at all, but something about this class has you super interested. It’s all so brand new, it almost feels like you’re dusting off unused parts of your brain. You sit down on the edge of a raised garden bed and take out your phone - you’ve got a microbiology lecture in fifteen minutes, but the weather today is ridiculously beautiful and you want to take a minute to just be out in it. Plus you promised you’d call Jade again, and you kind of want to tell her to watch _The Celluloid Closet_ anyway. 

You’re dialing when somebody sits down next to you on the ledge. “Hey.”  
You look up - it’s Dirk. You turn off your phone. “Hey! That was a really good lecture today.”  
He slides his bag off of his shoulder and sets it down next to him. “What did you think of the documentary?”  
“It was great,” you say honestly. “It was sweet. All the stuff about love… I don’t know. Even with that corny Tom Hanks bit, it made me happy to watch, I guess.”  
Dirk nods. “I totally agree. Professor Maryam always assigns it because it’s a good primer for the course, but I just think it’s a good movie.”  
From where you’re sitting, his legs touch the ground; yours are kind of swinging aimlessly in the air. “I didn’t even know about a lot of the films they included,” you say. “Like, stuff with James Dean and Audrey Hepburn and Lauren Bacall. Old Hollywood.”  
“You’d be surprised,” he says. He pauses for a moment, then adds, “I actually didn’t come over here to talk about movies, though.”  
You look up from your lap. “What’s up?”  
“Would you want to go get lunch with me?”   
“Oh!” Your brain does that fun thing where it makes you forget how to speak English for a second and the only thing going through your head, bright and panicked, is _is he talking to me?_ Dave’s cool older brother wants to hang out with you. Dave’s cool older brother wants to hang out with you. Dave’s cool older brother _still does not know who you are_.   
“Yes,” you manage. “That- I’d like that.”  
He smiles. “Cool.”  
“Cool,” you say. Then you check your watch and swear. “Oh, shit. I’m- I totally forgot, I'm late for a lecture - could we do next week?” you ask, picking up your bag.  
“Yeah, no problem,” he says.  
"Cool," you say again. You can't stop saying cool. "Cool. I guess I'll see you then."

You end up really having to leg it to the bio building, but you're in a good enough mood that it doesn't bother you.

\---

Objectively you know that as the semester continues your schedule is going to get busier, but every year around the end of September it somehow still manages to sneak up on you. All your classes for your major simultaneously kick into high gear and end up completely eclipsing Gender, Sexuality, and Media in terms of workload; Professor Maryam doesn’t assign anything beyond your weekly movie, but your evil physics professor, conversely, won’t stop giving you the longest readings in the world and then quizzing you on them in excruciating detail. Plus you get a gig as an assistant in a research lab for a few hours a week, so you basically are just studying and working forever. It’s so bad you don’t even have the time to hang out with Dave, and you live in the same apartment as him. 

So, really, you can’t be mad that he doesn’t get the chance to tell you Dirk’s stopping by until he’s already standing in your living room.

“Oh,” you say. You came out for water; you’re holding an empty glass and wearing a very stupid pair of pajamas.  
“Oh,” he says.   
You can’t think of anything smart to say, so you say something dumb. “Dave didn’t tell me you were coming over.”  
“John,” he says. He looks like something’s dawning on him. “Dave’s John.”  
“Uh, I guess?”   
“Fuck, I thought you looked familiar,” he says.   
“Sorry,” you say, because you’re not sure how to respond. You’re surprised he remembers you at all. “Is Dave... here? I didn’t hear him come in.”  
“He’s out, I’m just dropping off some of his shit.” He gestures to a bag on the ground in the hall. “He gave me his key, just so you know. I didn’t break in.”  
You know your face is turning red. “Uh, okay.”  
He’s silent for a second, and then he says, “I was going to email you, actually.”  
“You were?”  
“You missed last week’s lecture,” he says.  
“Oh, God,” you say. “Yeah, I know. I’m sorry about that, I actually meant to email you, too. I’m totally watching the videos and stuff, I just got super slammed this week and it slipped my mind.”  
“Porrim gave out the prompt for the midterm,” he says. “I can send it to you.”  
“Porrim?”  
“Professor Maryam.”  
“Oh, shit,” you say. You do actually feel bad - you really wouldn’t have missed one of her lectures on purpose. “That’d be great, if you don’t mind.”  
“Not at all,” he says.

Another prolonged silence. You can’t tell for sure since he’s wearing his sunglasses, but it feels like he’s staring at you. 

“Well, uh,” you say.  
“Yeah,” he says. “Um. Good to see you. Sorry for barging in.”  
“No worries.” You manage to smile at him. “I’ll see you on Thursday?”  
“See you then,” he says.   


\-- ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering gardenGnostic [GG] at 15:32 --

EB: i am considering moving to the middle of the pacific ocean so i never have to speak to anybody ever again.  
EB: do you think jake will let me live with him?  
GG: oh boy  
GG: what happened :0  
EB: dirk showed up at the apartment   
EB: so he knows i know dave now. also i think we had plans that i accidentally missed?  
EB: actually i changed my mind. i’m not going to go through our conversation because if i am forced to think about it again i will spontaneously combust. just picture me wearing dirty pajamas and acting like a fucking moron and you will get the picture  
GG: lololololololol  
GG: im gonna text dave  
EB: no!!!!!!

\-- gardenGnostic [GG] ceased pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 15:44 --

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 15:44 --

TG: sorry i shouldve told you he was coming  
EB: it’s ok it’s not actually that big of a deal.  
TG: hes a cool dude i promise he doesnt like  
TG: think badly of you or anything  
TG: plus hes definitely seen worse anyway so your stupid ass pajamas probably didnt even faze him  
EB: i guess that’s reassuring.  
TG: still sorry for real though  
TG: ill give u a heads up next time he comes over

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 15:51 --

\---

TO: johnegbert@uskaia.edu  
FROM: dirkstrider@uskaia.edu  
SUBJECT: Midterm

John -   
I’ve attached the midterm prompt below. Sorry again for earlier today. Hope to see you Thurs.  
\- Dirk

\-- 

SOC 122: Gender, Sexuality, and Media  
Professor Porrim Maryam  
TA: Dirk Strider  
Midterm Prompt

For your midterm project, you will be asked to write a 2,000 word paper on theory we’ve discussed in class (up to and including content from lecture on **Tuesday, October 20th (10/20)** ) and how that theory relates to a film of your choosing. How you execute this analysis will be mostly up to your individual discretion - we only ask that you reference a minimum of two of this semester’s assigned readings and choose a film we have not yet watched in class. Please turn in final drafts to Professor Maryam before lecture on **Tuesday, October 27th (10/27)**. 

\---

It ends up being the vagueness of it that throws you for a loop. You usually get clear parameters for projects in your science classes - even if you’re running your own experiment, your professors are pretty explicit in terms of what they want from you. 

“I don’t know what to do,” you say. Dave is playing a fighting game on the Xbox; he gestures to the second controller, an invitation for you to join, and you collapse on the couch next to him.  
“What’s the project,” he asks, switching to multiplayer and immediately socking your character in the stomach.  
“ _Hey,_ ” you say. Your dude makes a strangled noise. “Uh. We just have to analyze a movie. But like, normally, Professor Maryam assigns a list? And gives us readings to work from and stuff? But for this one we’re kind of on our own.”  
You press a couple buttons and wind up to punch Dave’s guy in the face. Dave brings an elbow down right on top of your head.   
“That doesn’t sound that bad,” he says. Both characters grunt in unison.  
“To you,” you say. “I don’t know how to do this shit.”  
“Okay, then ask Dirk,” he says. “He helped you last time.”  
“Before he knew I knew who he was,” you say. “And didn’t tell him, because apparently I’m a weirdo who doesn’t know how to talk to people.”  
“Dirk doesn’t think you’re a weirdo,” says Dave.   
You pause. “How do you know?”  
“Because he’s also a weirdo,” Dave’s dude executes some combo in a blur of blue and purple, “and because we talked about it. He’s my brother. He tells me shit sometimes.”  
You swing. Dave blocks it. “You talked about me?”  
Dave hums an affirmative. “Not like, a lot. But it is kind of noteworthy when you barge in on a half naked man in his own apartment.”  
“H- I was not _half naked_.” Dave punches your guy in the head and you go down immediately.  
“Okay, fuck this game for real,” you say, throwing the controller down and turning to face him. “What did he tell you?”  
“Just that it happened,” Dave says. “Which I already knew because of Jade. Also there was some self-flagellation for embarrassment reasons, because he was embarrassed.”  
“ _He_ was embarrassed?”  
“Yep.” He starts up another single-player round.  
“I was embarrassed.”  
“I know.”  
“Fuck,” you say.  
Dave rolls his eyes. “Dude, if you really wanna make a big deal out of nothing, just go to your professor’s office hours instead of his.” He’s already mostly engrossed in the game again. “But I still think you could just talk to him about it.”  
"The first part of that was a good suggestion,” you say. “I’m going to send her an email. I’m also going to ignore the other thing you said, because it was dumb.” And that is exactly what you proceed to do.

You and Professor Maryam agree to meet on Wednesday at three. Her office is on a floor of the lecture building you’ve never been to, spacious and windowed and equipped with a full kitchen connecting a hive of twelve offices. She’s seated at her desk. Unlike Dirk’s, it's aggressively functional; situated in the middle of the room with a chair for you to sit in across from her.

“Good afternoon, John,” she says. “What can I do for you?”  
“I just had a couple questions about the midterm,” you say. “Or, uh. Just one question, really. I’m having some difficulty figuring out what exactly it is you want us to write the paper about.”  
Her lip ring clicks over her teeth when she smiles. “I unfortunately don’t have a very helpful answer. My only criteria is that you can relate it to concepts we’ve learned in class, and that your topic interests you.”  
“You’re like the sixth person to come in asking that exact same question,” says a voice from the kitchen behind you. It’s Dirk. He’s pouring coffee into a mug with a picture of a grinning Garfield saying “Bean Me!” printed on the side. “I’m starting to think we maybe just wrote a bad prompt.”  
“It’s not supposed to be easy,” Professor Maryam says. “But since you’re here, come give your input. How would you help John figure out what his topic should be?”  
You watch Dirk pour an alarming amount of sugar into his coffee. “Okay,” he says. “What’s your favorite movie, John? Real answer, I mean, not cool answer.”  
You know immediately but you pretend you have to consider it. “Uh, _Ghostbusters_ , I guess. But I’m obviously not gonna write my midterm on that.”  
“Why not? You can read subtext into a lot of movies if you’re looking for it,” he says. “Not everything is as explicit as _Blue Is the Warmest Color_.”  
“No kidding,” you say.   
He goes thoughtfully silent for a moment, mixing in the sugar with a wooden stirrer. “You know,” he says, finally, “that actually may not be a terrible idea.”   
You laugh. “What, _Ghostbusters_?”  
“To be fair, I haven’t seen it in a long time,” he says, “but any movie with that much slime and _anybody_ saying ‘bustin’ makes me feel good’ should have enough symbolism for you to write a decent paper on.”  
“Dirk,” Professor Maryam says flatly.   
He raises his hands in mock surrender. “You asked for my opinion.”  
“And then immediately regretted doing so,” she says. “But, I suppose, John, if you really wanted to write about _Ghostbusters_ , you could do it. I’m being serious when I say I’d be _very_ interested in seeing what you come up with.”

\---

That evening you settle into the couch with a pen and a notebook and hit play on the movie. It’s a little hard to focus on it objectively - you’re kind of just happy to be watching it - but you keep your project generally in mind and try to absorb the movie objectively. 

It kind of works. Eight minutes in you pause, writing down a line from Venkman to the librarian with a paranormal experience; _have you or any member of your family ever been diagnosed schizophrenic, mentally incompetent? Are you, Alice, menstruating right now?_ You note the timestamp, too, even though you’re not sure what exactly you’d use the information to support.   


You basically just end up noting whenever Venkman says something insulting to a girl, which is way more often than you realized as a kid. It doesn’t do much in terms of your project, though, since the only argument you can think of is that Venkman is kind of a dick and you are almost positive that’s not what Professor Maryam is looking for. 

You’re almost relieved when you get a text from Dave twenty minutes in.

TG: hey im in the hallway with dirk please tell me youre decent

You are very proud of yourself when you only flip your shit a little bit. 

EB: yes haha very funny. you can come in

The front door lock clicks. You roll your eyes. “Were you actually just standing out in the hallway like a weirdo until I responded? You could’ve just knocked.”  
“If this is the thanks I get for trying to respect your boundaries,” Dave says, shouldering his backpack and removing his keys from the lock, “I’m just gonna break down the door next time. Me and Dirk, two man SWAT team, and I won’t even ask whether you’re wearing pants or not.”  
“It will totally be your fault when we lose the deposit,” you say. “Also, you have a key.”  
He makes a face at you and drops his bag on the ground. “Oh shit, is that _Ghostbusters_?”   
“You took my advice,” Dirk says. You’re so glad you turned the lights down for the movie, because he smiles at you and your face goes red.   
“Yep.” You have absolutely no idea why it’s so hard to talk to him.   
“How’s it going so far?”  
“Um. Kinda bad?” Eloquent. Nice! “I don’t really know what I should write about.”  
“Can we watch with you?” Dave asks.   
“I’m not sure-” Dirk says, and at the same time you go “Maybe that’s not-” but Dave’s already walking into the kitchen and clearly not caring about either of your responses.  
“I’m gonna make popcorn,” he says.   
You click your pen a few times. Dirk’s wearing a white collared shirt and he looks very put-together. You wonder if he was on a date or something. 

“What do you have so far?”  
“Huh?” His voice startles you out of your thoughts; it takes you a second to realize he’s talking about your notes. “Oh. Oh! Um, not much. The movie kinda just started.”  
He gestures at the couch. “Do you mind if I…?”  
“Oh, of course! Or, I mean, no, I don’t mind.” You laugh awkwardly. “Jeez, where are my manners, huh?”  
He sits down, and your knees bump. You try really hard not to think about the acrobatic fucking flips your stomach is doing, and to focus instead on the movie, wherein Sigourney Weaver is being subjected to a lie detector test and having electrodes stuck to her head and stuff.   
_Tell you what,_ says onscreen Bill Murray. _I’ll take Miss Barrett back to her apartment and check her out. I’ll go check out Miss Barrett’s apartment. Okay?_  
“What’s sticking out to you so far?” Dirk still hasn’t moved his knee. The point of pressure and warmth is weirdly distracting.   
“That Venkman is an asshole,” you say. “I never realized as a kid. I thought he was funny.”  
“I think that’s the point. Kids aren’t supposed to realize. There’s a lot of subtext.”  
“How so?”   
Venkman and Dana are in the process of scoping out her apartment. He’s going around the room with some kind of antenna, squeezing what looks like the end of a blood pressure cuff. _A lot of space_ , says Venkman as he turns it around to point at her. _Just you?_  
“Like that,” Dirk says. “The equipment as something phallic.”  
“Seriously?”   
_Well, are you sure you’re using that thing correctly?_ Dana says, as if on cue.   
“Oh my God,” you say. “You’re right. I totally would’ve missed that.”  
He shrugs. “I’ve been doing this for a while.”  
“Noticing metaphorical dicks?”   
“It’s an acquired skill,” he says, and you laugh. He’s silent, but you can tell by the curve of the side of his face that he’s smiling. 

The Ghostbusters are going up in the Sedgewick Hotel elevator. _Let’s get ready_ , says Ray, offering his proton pack to Egon. _Switch me on_. Dirk gives you a meaningful look that you ignore in favor of saying, “Did you know Slimer was originally supposed to be named Onionhead?”  
He sputters out a surprised laugh. “No. Why?”  
“He smelled like onions, supposedly.” You grin. “I think he looks like an Onionhead.”  
“He does,” Dirk says. You made him laugh. You feel weirdly proud. 

Onscreen they head down to the ballroom after Slimer. Says Egon: _there’s something very important I forgot to tell you. Don’t cross the streams._ And wow, that feels almost too obvious to point out to Dirk, now that you’re looking for it. As you write it down and note the timestamp, you ask, “can I actually write a whole paper on how the proton packs in Ghostbusters are dick symbolism? Is that allowed?”  
“Technically, you could,” he says. “But speaking as the person who’s going to be grading your paper, I’d maybe flesh it out a little bit more than that.”  
You nod. Then something occurs to you. “Wait, is _this_ allowed?”  
“Is what allowed?”  
“You just said it, you’re going to be grading my paper,” you say. “Can you be helping me?”  
“We’re sitting here talking about dicks. Not sure if I’d call that helping you.”   
“You know what I mean.”  
He pauses for a moment, and then says, “No academic integrity rules against being friends.”  
“Oh,” you say, not very intelligently. “Uh. Right.” 

You look back to the movie for a reprieve from the sudden silence and are met by Dan Aykroyd getting blown by a ghost. He’s making weird noises and kicking around and crossing his eyes and you both are very determinedly not saying anything.   
You start giggling. For the life of you, you can’t make yourself stop. “God,” you say. “Sorry. I guess this movie is pretty dumb.”  
“I actually think it holds up okay,” Dirk says.   
“Stantz is a closet freak,” says Dave, coming back in with a bowl of popcorn.  
“That took you long enough,” you say. You grab it from him. “And Stantz is _nice_.”  
“It’s always the nice ones,” Dave says. “That’s why he’s a closet freak and not just a regular one.”  
“It’s the director’s fault, he won’t stop sexualizing the ghosts,” you say.   
Dirk reaches into your lap for a handful of popcorn. “There’s an argument.”  
“Wait, actually?”   
He shrugs. “Yeah. The phallic symbolism is very specifically tied to work related equipment, which would be more broadly relating jobs and masculinity. Ray’s having a sex dream about ghosts. He works catching ghosts, he’s at the peak of his career-”  
“Wait, wait, shit, hold on.” You scramble for your notebook. “Let me write that down.”

The longer you watch, the more it actually seems to fall into place. There’s a long-term pissing contest between Venkman and the EPA inspector guy - _exactly what are you a doctor of, Mr. Venkman?_ And Bill Murray doesn’t even need to say _it’s true. This man has no dick_ for you to know that Dirk has hit the nail right on the fucking head. 

“College is a scam,” Dave says, looking over your shoulder as you furiously scribble in your notebook. “This is what your precious tuition dollars are going towards. Dicks in a kids’ movie.”  
You flip him off and go back to writing.   
“I mean, we’re already here, why not take it a step further,” he says. “Just go batshit with the analysis. They defeat the marshmallow baby by touching metaphorical dicks, right? That’s kinda gay.”  
“Shut up.”  
“Well, if we’re getting into it,” Dirk says. “That’s also a valid interpretation.”   
There’s a beat of silence, and then Dave bursts out laughing. “Hold on,” you say, turning to look at Dirk. “I don’t get it. I thought you said it was an analogy for masculinity.”  
“It’s another layer that you don’t necessarily need to include in your paper,” Dirk says. “But since the ‘crossing streams’ thing is basically the only time Venkman shows any sign of vulnerability throughout the entire movie, and considering it’s a scene that specifically focuses on him and Ray, you could kind of see it as symbolizing a moment of self-realization.”  
“ _See you on the other side, Ray,_ ” Dave quotes. He’s grinning. “Holy fuck, Venkman and Stantz were in love.”  
“Wait,” you say. “It’s- Venkman wants to have sex with Dana! That’s like a pretty major plot point.”  
“I don’t think it’s too much of a stretch to say he could be covering up real feelings for Ray by super aggressively sexualizing any woman who shows up in the movie for longer than five seconds.” Dirk shrugs. “It almost definitely wasn’t intentional, but they wrote him as pretty repressed. You could read that as being closeted.”

You go quiet. Dana and Venkman are kissing with marshmallow fluff in their hair and the crowd is cheering. You’re not totally sure why it’s making you feel so weird. 

“Um. I suddenly don’t feel great,” you say. “I’m gonna go lie down.” You get up way too fast. The place where Dirk’s knee was touching yours suddenly feels very cold. You know you’re acting like a weirdo, but you can’t make yourself stop.   
“Is everything okay?” Dirk asks.  
“Mhm,” you say. “All good. Stomachache, that’s all. I think the popcorn didn’t agree with me. Good night, you guys!”

You walk to your room as quickly as you can and shut the door firmly behind you. You end up just lying above the covers in bed, scrolling through your phone and trying to stop the confused chorus of _repressed? Closeted? Repressed? Closeted?_ that’s banging around ceaselessly in your head. Eventually you just fall asleep in your jeans like a fucking animal. It is not a great end to the evening.

\---

“I think,” you say, “I maybe have had a crush on Bill Murray for fifteen years.”

Dave’s visibly half asleep. You almost feel bad for springing this on him five minutes after he just woke up, and then you kind of start freaking out again.   
“Dave, am I gay?” you ask.   
He gets a cereal bowl out of the cupboard, rubbing at one eye with the back of his hand. There’s a pink pillow crease down one side of his neck. “You’re asking me if you’re gay?”  
“Yes,” you say. “Fuck. No. I don’t know.”  
“It would be pretty gay of you to have a crush on Bill Murray,” he says. “You could also be bi, I guess. Either way you would have bad taste in men.”  
“I’m not kidding,” you wail. “I literally couldn’t sleep last night because I couldn’t stop thinking about Dirk’s whole repression thing.”  
Dave shakes out a bowl of Frosted Flakes. He pours a cup of coffee and hands it to you.   
“Thank you,” you say. You take a sip. “I’m freaking out.”  
“I can see that,” he says.   
“Is Dirk gay?”   
He looks at you carefully. “If I say yes, are you gonna be weird about it?”  
“No,” you say. “I’m only gonna be weird about me being gay.”  
“Oh, well, in that case,” he says.  
“ _Dave._ ”  
He sits down across from you at the table and shovels a spoonful of cereal into his mouth. “Yes, John, he’s gay,” he says, his mouth very full.   
“You just spat a Frosted Flake on my arm,” you say. “Also, okay. Thank you for telling me.”  
“You’re welcome.” He chews for a few seconds, then asks, “do you actually think you’re gay? Like, for real?”  
You look down at your hands. “A lot of what Dirk was talking about last night kind of… sounded familiar, I guess? Sort of. So like, maybe. I’m not sure.”  
“Well, you’ll still be my son either way,” he says, and you laugh, because he’s kidding. But the sentiment does actually kind of make you feel better.

\---

“So, _The Children’s Hour_.” Dirk’s standing up in front of the table, kind of pacing back and forth behind his chair. “I think one of the most interesting things about this movie is how careful it is. Considering that the word lesbianism is never actually used in the script, how is it that the audience immediately understands the implications of Mary’s accusation?”  
“Use of the word unnatural,” somebody offers.  
"Yep,” Dirk says.   
“Subversion of gender roles,” says somebody else. “Right at the beginning with them owning a house together and paying bills together and raising a bunch of kids and stuff.”  
“Okay, what else?”  
“Martha hates Karen’s fiancé.” There’s a little bit of quiet laughter at that, but Dirk shakes his head.  
“No, you’re right. Why is that relevant?”  
“Themes of envy. He has what she wants.”  
“Exactly right. Anything else?”  
“Guilt,” you say. “For wanting things.”  
Dirk turns to look at you. “How do you mean?”  
You shrug. “I don’t know. Martha insisting she’s happy about Karen getting married when she’s clearly not. The whole thing about her ruining Karen - _I can’t stand to have you touch me?_ And then Martha kills herself after Karen says she wants them to live together again. Hold on, I wrote it down,” you say, flipping through your notebook. “Here: _I’m going away someplace to begin again. Will you come with me?_ And even though Martha’s in love with her she can’t do it.”  
For a moment, Dirk just stares at you. Then he says, “Self-loathing.”  
“Yeah,” you say.   
You feel like you’ve crossed a line somehow but you’re not quite sure what you did. He looks at you for another heavy second and then moves on. “Right, anybody else?”

You hang back after discussion ends. You’d been planning on doing so before class even started, but as the number of people in the room dwindles, the energy in the room turns weird. You’ve just started considering maybe catching him at a better time when he finally turns around.   
“Hey. You feeling okay today?”  
“Yep. All better.” You flash him a broad smile and a thumbs up. “Sorry for skipping out on you guys like that.”  
“You don’t have to apologize,” he says.   
“I know, but I was having fun,” you say. “We could’ve watched another movie or something.”  
“Well. Next time,” he says. 

He starts to walk out of the room, but you catch his wrist. “Hey, hold on a sec. I’ve actually been meaning to give you-” You scribble your number on a corner of a piece of notebook paper and rip it off to hand to him. “If you still... wanted to go to lunch sometime, maybe. Or something.”  
He stares at it for a long time. Then he carefully puts it back down on your desk. “I'm not really sure if that's a great idea.”  
“Oh,” you say.   
“It’s not- I mean, it’s just. I thought about it some more and you probably were right about the whole academic integrity thing.”  
“Right,” you say. “Sure.”  
He gives you a strange look. “I’m sorry.”  
“No, my God, no worries,” you say. “I totally get it. No biggie.” _No biggie?_ What the fuck are you saying?  
“Um. I’ve gotta run,” he says. “I’ll talk to you later.”  
“Yeah, sure, talk to you later,” you say. 

\---

Past you was actually right, is the worst part. You’re not sure if you were asking Dirk on a date, exactly, but you were definitely trying to do _something_ , and the academic integrity handbook says _teachers, TAs, graders, and research supervisors cannot act in an evaluative or teaching capacity for any student with whom they are involved; and, if such a situation arises, they must recuse themselves and notify a supervisor so an alternative evaluative arrangement can be put into place. Failure to notify the University of a relationship of this nature will result in discipline under the Fundamental Standard_. You’re not so much of an asshole as to assume getting lunch with you would take priority over his fucking teaching position. Your feelings are kind of hurt, but you get it. 

However, in the vein of silver linings and bright sides and other stupid shit that you don’t care about, your timing isn’t terrible. You spend a few days hunkered down in your apartment and then you get to go home for fall break and avoid thinking about anything for a while. You bake a bunch of stuff with your dad and spend a ton of awesome quality time together and then after a couple days you tell him you think you might be gay. Predictably, he’s totally fine with it. You still spend some time crying in your room, though, lying curled up in the fetal position on your stupid tiny twin bed until you start to feel a little better. 

You come back to school with a metric fuckton of baked goods and your head screwed back on a little straighter. Your dad hugs you a million times before you get on the train, and you kind of tear up on the platform and tell him you don’t want to leave, and then you leave. You love him a lot. Objectively he is the best dad in the world. 

Normally you’d have Dave pick you up from the station, given that he’s got a car, but you pull in an hour and a half late and end up just calling an Uber to save time. You put a headphone in one ear and try to listen to a podcast, but you mostly doze until the car pulls up to the curb and you jolt awake.   
As you walk up the stairs of your building, you list the things in your head that you’re looking forward to doing. Taking a long shower. Running a load of laundry. Laying on your couch. Sleeping without the sounds of dad snoring through the wall. Fuck, sleeping in a _double bed_.   
You’re lost enough in your own thoughts that you don’t notice the extra pair of shoes by the door. You don’t really register the sound of conversation above the podcast still droning in your ear, either. So it doesn’t actually hit you that somebody else is in your apartment until you walk past the door to the kitchen and Dirk and Dave are sitting across from each other at the table, going to town on an enormous pizza.

Dave’s face lights up when he notices you in the hallway. “I thought you were gonna call me when you got in!” He gets up and pulls you into a one-armed hug, deftly avoiding hitting you in the head with his slice of pizza. “There’s pizza if you want some.”  
“I noticed,” you say. You’re still kind of off-balance but you’re also really happy to see Dave, so you let yourself hold onto the hug for a second. “Did you get pineapple and jalapeño?”  
“No, because I didn’t know you were gonna be partaking and nobody else likes that shit,” he says, releasing you from the hug.  
“It’s good, don’t be a dick,” you say. Then, carefully, “Hey, Dirk.”  
“Hey.” He smiles at you thinly. “Good break?”  
“Yeah, thanks,” you say. “You?”  
He hums an affirmative. You both fall silent.  
“Well,” Dave says. “We were gonna watch a movie. You wanna join?”  
“Oh, no,” you say. “I need to shower and unpack and stuff. I’ll catch you later.”  
You smile at Dirk again, but the look he gives you in return is entirely indecipherable. You decide not to push it.

\---

\-- ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 00:32 --

EB: i forgot to mention dad sent me home with cakes for you! they’re in the fridge if you want.  
TG: hell yessss  
TG: tell him i say thanks and also that i love him   
EB: i’m sure he knows but i’ll tell him again anyway.  
TG: what a real one   
TG: shame he lives three hours away and is also old as hell or you know id have that shit on lock  
EB: please never say that again.  
EB: he is off limits for ever even for jokes because thinking about that makes me want to throw up in my mouth.  
TG: hey speaking of family  
TG: whats wrong with dirk  
EB: how should i know?  
TG: i dont know you guys are friends now i guess  
TG: he seems weird all of a sudden right  
TG: its not just me   
EB: it’s not just you.   
EB: actually, i think it’s me :P  
TG: wdym  
EB: when we were watching ghostbusters together i brought up the fact that i thought it might be cheating since he was pretty much helping me write my paper.  
EB: he said he didn’t think it applied but i gave him my number the next day and he said he couldn’t take it because it was an academic integrity violation.   
EB: idk. seeing it all written out it i guess i don’t feel like i did anything wrong?  
EB: but i feel like he’s mad at me or something.  
TG: oh   
TG: fuck lol  
TG: hold on

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 00:55 --

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 01:17 --

TG: can i give dirk your number  
EB: he wants it?  
TG: yes  
EB: um.   
EB: ok?  


\-- turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 01:20 --

\-- timaeusTestified [TT] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 01:22 --

TT: Am I correct in assuming you know that I’m gay?

You don’t throw your phone across the room, but it’s a near thing. i. am. going. to. KILL YOU, you text Dave, before you start trying to craft a somewhat normal response to the World’s Most Uncomfortably Posed Question. 

EB: dave mentioned it.   
EB: i’m sorry. i know that’s an invasion of privacy.   
EB: i hope you know it doesn’t make me think any differently of you and i definitely will never say a word about it to anybody if you don’t want me to.  
TT: That ship sailed a long time ago.   
TT: But thanks for the offer. That’s very nice of you.

You type and delete. And type. And delete. You think, and then type, and then you delete again.   
“You know what?” you say. “Actually, fuck this.” You send:

EB: did i do something to upset you?  
TT: I’m not sure what I’ve done that would make you think I’m upset.  
EB: i mean, let me know if i’m totally off the mark with this, but i was under the impression that you liked me at least as a friend.  
EB: you’re kind of holding me at arm’s length here.

You don’t get a response for a few minutes. You’re starting to contemplate the merits of leaving your room and just going to talk to him face to face - but he clearly has something he’s working on saying to you, and you don’t want to freak him out. 

TT: I can’t figure out a way to say this that doesn’t sound completely fucking asinine, so sorry in advance.  
TT: Dave told me you’ve been questioning recently.  
TT: He also told me that it was largely my fault.   
TT: I didn’t take your number when you gave it to me because taking it would’ve been irresponsible. Whether I like it or not, I’m still your TA.   
TT: I was acting like a dick during discussion group because that kind of guilt you were talking about is something I’ve struggled with for a long time, and the idea of you resonating with something like that because of something I did makes me feel like  
TT: I don’t know.  
TT: Like I might not be a great influence on you.  
EB: that’s kind of unfair.   
EB: or, i mean, not the first thing. that is fine and makes sense.   
EB: but i don’t think this is ‘something you did’.   
EB: and all things considered i also don’t think i’m doing a terrible job dealing with it.   
TT: I told you it was going to sound stupid.   
TT: But I guess it doesn’t really matter, because the unfortunate reality of the situation is that I’m your TA.   
TT: I literally cannot have this conversation with you, because I’m your TA.  
EB: but let’s say hypothetically we were living in a parallel universe where you weren’t my TA.   
EB: would you be saying something different to me right now?

He takes another minute to respond. You spend that minute feeling a lot of emotions all at once.

TT: Probably.  
EB: okay.  
EB: and in this universe that we currently live in, if i were to hypothetically wait two months until i got my final grade back before texting you to ask if you wanted to go to lunch.  
EB: would you want to do that with me?  
TT: I mean, I’d have to give you my official answer in two months.   
TT: But hypothetically, if you were actually willing to do that, I would most likely be down.   
EB: so then we are very much on the same page.   
TT: I guess we are.

\---

Snowdrifts have piled up on the sides of the street, but by the time you get to Dirk’s apartment building you’re red-faced and breathing hard. Given how far off campus he lives, you really fucking hope he’s here. It would suck to have to walk all the way back. You probably should’ve just texted and told him you were coming. 

\-- ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering timaeusTestified [TT] at 14:22 --

EB: hey.  
EB: are you at home?  
TT: Yeah, why?  
EB: i’m outside. 

His apartment is on the second floor of a duplex. It has an exterior door with a winding staircase that goes down to the street. You can see the door open when he comes outside; he’s wearing pajamas, a white t-shirt and plaid pants, and standing in sock feet on the slushy landing. 

You brandish the paper you’re holding up at him. “85%.”   
“Yeah,” he says.   
“ _Fifteen points off,_ ” you say. “For what?”  
“I told you why on the rubric.”  
“Yeah, okay,” you say. “But the rubric is bullshit. I cited three different articles. My argument was still supported even though I _maybe_ forgot to include the Neale thing.”  
“Including the Neale thing was worth fifteen points.”  
“You’re just mad because I ended up writing about _Con Air_ even though you said it was a bad idea.”  
One corner of his mouth quirks up. “An 85% is a good grade, John. Also, I didn’t say writing about it was a bad idea, I said it was a bad movie.”   
“It has _nostalgic value_ , asshole.” 

The wind is cutting - Dirk’s hugging himself against the cold, and down on the street, your nose and ears are starting to go numb. “Hey, sorry if this is, like, presumptuous,” you say, “but is it okay if I come in? I’m kinda freezing my balls off out here.”  
“Oh, yeah,” he says, stepping back into the apartment. You walk up the stairs carefully - steep and metal, they’re a fucking death trap in the winter. When you get to the landing he’s holding the door open for you.  
“Just to clarify,” he says, shutting the door behind you as you toe off your snowy boots. “You’re done.”  
“Talked to Professor Maryam and everything.” You unwind your scarf. “She put final grades in. I got an A minus overall.”  
“Okay,” he says. Up close you can see the neck of his shirt is ripped out; it hangs open over his collarbone. He’s flushed from the cold. “Do you want a cup of coffee?”  
“Yeah, if it’s not too much trouble,” you say.   
He gives you a look. “You’re fine with coming over unannounced to yell at me about your grade, but _now_ you want to be polite.”  
“Oh, screw you,” you say cheerfully, unzipping your coat. “I can say whatever I want. You’re not my TA anymore.” 

His apartment is oppressively warm. The radiator rattles, overworked, against the far wall of the living room. You follow him into the kitchen as he pours coffee into a _World’s best Brother_ mug that you actually remember buying with Dave last winter.   
“So.” He hands it to you. “I’m assuming you didn’t come all the way over here just to talk about _Con Air_.”  
“Nope,” you say. “We had a conversation a few months ago that has maybe become relevant again. I’m not sure if you remember.”  
“It sounds vaguely familiar,” he says dryly.   
“So?” You sip your coffee. “You still wanna get lunch?”

He’s leaning against the counter next to you, his arms crossed loosely over his chest. You’ve been doing a lot of thinking about this for a long time but it still kind of feels surreal that it’s happening; that he likes you, you’re pretty sure, since he let you in and gave you coffee and is now looking at you in a way that’s making your stomach do something super funky.   
“Yes, John,” he says. He’s smiling. “I still want to get lunch.”  
“Cool,” you say. “Because it would’ve really sucked if you’d changed your mind.” You set your mug down on the counter and walk across the kitchen. “Also, I have a second question.”  
“Shoot.”  
“Is it cool if I kiss you?”  
At that, he bursts out laughing. Real laughter, clear and bright; the most you’ve ever heard from him. “I think I’d be fine with that, yeah.”

You’re in each other’s personal space already, so it’s easy for you to lean over and close the gap between your mouths. He puts one hand on your hip, palm flat to your skin, and you make a sound - slightly strangled, you kind of can’t help it. His mouth is extraordinarily warm. You curl a hand behind his neck. 

You end up going out for dinner instead.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm not a sociology or gender/sexuality studies major, so if any of the academic stuff seems weird, it's because i don't know what the fuck i'm talking about


End file.
